Reality Check
by The New Flock Member
Summary: I didn't ask to be born. I didn't ask to have wings. I didn't ask to become a human experiment. I did ask to escape, but I didn't ask to be made responsible for 5 kids at the age of 12. I also didn't ask to put my life into the hands of a complete stranger, claiming to have books that tell my life story. But I got it anyway. and now I have to live with it. Here we go...
1. The Kidnapping

**This is a complete redo of my first story, _The Books_. Anything you recognize is from that, so don't get too confused. It'll be way different, however, so if you didn't like it before, you might like it now. Enjoy!**

No! Things like this don't happen to me!

These were my first thoughts as I woke up in the back of a van, dazed, hands and feet bound with a strong cord. I could hear two men up in the front arguing over the radio. Those kidnapping 101 portions of my health class popped into mind, and I scanned the back of the car, looking for something, anything, that might help.

The car was dark, with only the blue light of the clock display and button on the dash to provide sight. The back was devoid of all seats, excluding one, leaving me to roll around freely. There was one man sitting in the back with me, occupying the only chair, but he was fast asleep. I slowly rolled over to one corner and sat, using the walls to prop myself up. Quietly, I reached around behind me for some sort of sharp object that might have landed there to try and free myself.

At that moment, the car took a sharp left, and I was slammed to the ground. A loud noise accompanied my landing, and the two men up front turned around. I, like anyone in their sane mind, started screaming, hoping for someone outside to hear me and help.

"What the hell, man. You were supposed to watch her," complained the one driving.

"He's asleep," the other commented, poking the man in the back. "I'll get it." And he started climbing over the back seat towards me.

"HELP!" I screeched, rolling around, trying to avoid the hands that were reaching for me. Faster then should even be possible, the creep reached out and snagged my arm, gripping it hard enough to bruise. He roughly yanked me up so I was hanging out of his hand. Panic filled my mind as worse and worse situations played out mentally. I was a 13 year old girl, in a car alone with three strange men, who knows where. I started lashing out with my legs violently, hoping to catch the man unawares somewhere.

"Chloroform, you idiot!" The driver yelled back to his buddy.

"Duh." I was still struggling as he pressed a soft cloth to my face and kneed me in the stomach. Shocked, I sucked in a gasp of air and started to feel woozy. I felt myself hit the floor, almost as if I wasn't in my body. I struggled to stay above the waves of sleepiness coming at me, trying to listen to the conversation at the front of the car, but slowly I slipped under.

* * *

Maybe I should explain myself.

My name is Christina Roberts. I'm at the unlucky age of thirteen, where you're too young to do anything alone, too old to do anything fun, and you aren't in high school. I hail from American Fork, Utah, and I live in the typical four person American household. My parents, Kevin and Sharon Roberts, met in college and married not that far after. They had problems having children, so they eventually gave up. My brother, Shane, came as a late surprise, though not unwelcome. Wanting to have another child, my parents went to several fertility specialists. The first time they tried it was a miscarriage. The second time, after 8 months of bed rest and constant monitoring, I was brought into the world, weighing a light 4 pounds 8 ounces.

My childhood was uneventful. I was a minority, that of the redheaded population. I was pretty much your average teen, going to the movies, hanging with friends, watching TV and the likes. I love to read almost anything I could get my hands on. My mind would devour books at an incredible pace. I had a couple close friends, but overall I was the shy kid and I didn't socialize much.

My brother left when he was 19 and never came back, and we haven't had contact with him since. At first I thought it was horrible, but over time I got used to it. It shaped my childhood, making me less trusting of anyone. I was unwilling to get close to people who I didn't already know, which didn't help my standing on the social ladder of middle school.

On Fridays after school I went to a local pizza place with my few friends and then always took the back alleys home. The store wasn't far from my house, so my parents considered it safe. As safe as any parent could, anyway.

Some parts of Utah can be confusing, so I never give a thought when tourists stop and ask for directions to Thanksgiving Point or Lagoon, our local tourist traps. But most people don't stop in a back alley to ask a teen for directions. Go figure.

I should have been paying close attention, or ran, but I was couldn't wait to get home to call my friend Kimberly about my birthday party. One man hopped out of the back of their van and knocked me out with the cloth before I could react in any way. My last thoughts were of my upcoming party, and the denial of half of the guest list...

* * *

When I woke, I was in a crate. A freaking dog crate, one that was two sizes too small for a human of my general size. My thoughts still foggy, I looked around, trying to discover where I was. It was a longish room, filled with nothing but crates, no windows. Most were empty, but the one next to me was occupied with a boy.

He looked all wrong. His skin was a pale, washout, blue that was dried out and painfully cracked. There was a hole, a gaping, huge hole in the middle of his face. I leaned in, to try to get a closer look, but the door to the room slammed open.

I instantly slumped, as if I was asleep. At home, my mom would do the same thing trying to catch me up late, reading, which I did a lot. My arm twinged in pain, and I let one eye open a sliver to see an IV taped to my arm, the needle half inside. Two male voices started talking.

"They got one fast this time! Usually the erasers have to wait for a 'golden opportunity'", one voice mocked, "to arise before they grab one of the part humans!"

"Yes, well, Ari lead this time, and he is slightly more… smart." He snorted, as if the notion of brains was a concept this Ari wouldn't understand. "So, do you know what is this one going to be?"

"No, but I wonder how it survived? Some of the other 97% humans died because they were missing 3% of their DNA."

"They took out the unregistered chromosome strands." The voice laughed. "I still find it funny that we forgot about so many, and then stumble upon the files for them! Just what we needed! Now we don't have to wait another ten year for another batch to age here in the facility."

During this conversation, my crate had been picked up and moved onto a rolling platform. In my head I was trying to piece together what happened and where I was, and two phrases stuck in my mind.

Erasers.

97% Human.

Then it all fit.

I had read Maximum Ride a few months ago. It was book series I had found on a park bench,. I dismissed it as a fiction. Human experimentation? Yeah, right. Cool story, but not a reality.

Well, then, it was just a book. Not now.

I felt a faint cooling sensation in my arm, and my mind started to slip away again. One coherent thought came to me before all reality faded.

What is happening to me?

**Don't forget to review, it fuels my ever-hungry muse.**

**~Wryder**


	2. The School

**Here is the second chapter of the rewrite! **

Pain.

Blinding pain.

Immense, unimaginable.

Pure agony.

That is what I woke up, strapped to a heartless metal table. I shifted, trying to make it go away. It only got worse.

"She's awake! Who is in charge of sedatives? Get the anesthesiologist!"

Someone inserted a needle into my arm, and it all went black.

* * *

I came to slowly, the harsh white light blinding my eyes painfully. My back throbbed, causing me to wince away and hit my forehead on the wall of the crate. Slowly, ignoring the pain from my back and now my forehead, I closed my eyes and took note of my body. I flexed my feet, relieved that they weren't in pain. My legs felt achy, but not any more then if I had just run a mile. Most of the pain in my body radiated from my back. I moved my arm up, reaching for the ceiling of the crate. The pull this put on my back was painful, but not unbearable.

I maneuvered myself into a sitting position, making sure not to touch my back to anything. Carefully, I reached my hand over to my back, feeling the softness of a bandage. I traced the bandage all the way around to the front of my body. I laid back down on the floor of the crate, curling up on my side.

At this point, I only knew one thing, and that one thing was so far out there that I wasn't even sure that was true. If it was, then I was in a fictional place, with fictional people, being horrifically experimented on. If it wasn't, then I was either still being horrifically experimented on, or I was trapped inside of my own mind. The second option terrified me. It was one of my irrational fears, one I had ever since I had seen the movie Inception. Your mind was somewhere that, no matter what it seemed like, you were alone. Complete and total solitude. It was enough to drive someone insane, and being driven insane while inside your own mind never sounded like a good thing.

I stared blankly at the wall in front of me, lost in thought. _What happens next? Do I wake up? Or do they come back for me and start ripping me open?_

What seemed like hours passed. It was hard to tell the time when there were no clocks around. The door swung open, and laughter bled into the room, leaving as soon as the door shut again.

"What do we need today?" asked a voice. I looked up to see two men in white lab coats, looking at the clipboard that was sitting on the table near the door. Next to them was a flat cart, ment for transport of the crates that house all of the experiments (for that was what I realized we were) in this room.

"Two six six seven and four four two," rattled off the taller of the two men. His eyes scanned the room and locked onto my eyes. He smirked. "Number fifteen needs more time to prepare," he sneered, "for its next round."

"I know," commented Shorty, still looking at the clipboard. "Grafting can't begin until Thursday, anyway. Load up the ones we need. The runners are primed soon, and if we aren't prepared..."

I closed my eyes as the clanging of crates started, and curled up tighter, hugging my knees to my chest.

_Help._

* * *

"Move faster, fifteen." A jolt of electricity accompanied the command, and I pushed my burning muscles to move at a more excruciating rate. My mouth felt like a desert, drier than the Sahara, but I pushed on. At this point, it was a choice of pain or pain. Which did I fear more: my body, or the shocks I was sure to come by if I stopped. At this point, I feared the shocks more.

The only noises in the room were the slap of my feet against the material of the modified treadmill, the snapping electric noises of the cattle prod-like object being held by one of my captors, my gasping breath, and the the noise of my heartbeat in my ears. I couldn't tell you how long I had been in there, running and breakneck speed. One hour? Two? Days?

My knee twisted, and with a yelp of pain I was down. The treadmill launched me at the wall like a rocket, my leg taking most of the impact. There was a moment of silence, and then-

_Zap._

I just laid there and took it, not even having the energy to scream. _Zap_. My leg was throbbing in pain, demanding my attention, but I could hardly think. _Zap_. Pain was my existance.

_Zap_.

Blackness started edging its way into my sight, and I gladly let it take over.

_Zap_.

* * *

I marked my days by the times they came to get me. Not when they fed me, for that was too inconsistent. Not when I slept, because sometimes I just grabbed sleep when I could. The only thing I could count on here was that they would come for me. By my reckoning, I had been here for almost three weeks.

There were three things I left this room for, this crate for. One was what I called a checkup. It was a viewing of my vitals, and if needed, my healing process. They let me use the restroom at this time. If I was lucky, I could wash myself. Another was a test. They tested me in many things. My endurance, my logic, my strength, my processing were all things they wanted to know. I ran, I solved puzzles. On good days they let me read and checked my memory. On bad days, I was under duress, threat of pain, and had to work fast.

The third way I left the cage was for surgery. At least, I think that's what it was. I was always knocked out for this. When I came back, things about me would be different. Sometimes, I would have new scars that I had no recollection of receiving, or bandaged wounds on my chest. I was in an almost constant state of pain, so I had to learn to ignore it.

My body was changing. I felt lighter, and larger, but at the same time, smaller and more agile. The crate they kept me in wasn't as roomy as it was when I first woke up in it, not that it was even room then. My eyesight improved by leaps and bounds, taking my allready normal sight and turning it extraordinary. The biggest change, however, was the wings. Because of them, I knew that I was no longer 100 percent human anymore.

The wings started out as small, almost feeble things on my back, around the length of my arms and covered in a soft ivory down. When I first woke up with them, I flipped. Who wouldn't? I had just woken up with six limbs, not the four I was only supposed to have. Over the course of about what I counted as a week, they grew to an almost nine feet span. The growth spurt was even more painful then just human growth pains you would get in your legs, which I now got all the time also. Their coloring also changed, with the tips turning jet black and the backs taking a light sky blue, almost like a parakeet.

In the crates around me, I saw many children come and go. At first, it shocked me, how callous they were with human life. The saddest part was that I got used to it, seeing death around me every day. No one else seemed to last, or if they did, they didn't have enough of a brain to communicate.

My life was over. There was no way I would ever get out of this place. Or so I thought...**  
**

**Don't forget to review, it fuels my ever-hungry muse.**

**~Wryder**


	3. The Escape

The drip from some leak in the corner of the room was the only entertainment I'd had for four days now, if you didn't count the paperclip that fell on the floor near my crate at the beginning of this day. It was erratic, unpredictable, so I tried to guess when the next drip would fall. Not a very enjoyable game, but it was the only thing to do in this hellhole.

_Three, two, one..._Nothing.

No drip, no point.

I sighed. The score had been stuck at 112 for about an hour now, and it irritated me to no end. Why couldn't I just guess right? It wasn't that difficult. Just listen, and try to-

_Drip._

Dammit.

I brought my hand up to my mouth and started biting my nail, trying to chew it down more then it was. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in a long while, but I ignored it. The feeding schedule (if they even had one) had been inconsistent lately, leaving me with a hollow feeling inside. Something that, before this past 42 days, I had never experienced.

My old entertainment had been singing songs at the top of my lungs, but then they brought a new little girl into this room. At the sound of any voices, she began to whimper and cry. Her skin was scaly, her eyes a solid dark green with no whites or pupils, and her breathing rattled rougher when she was crying. She looked the size of a two year old. It was heartbreaking, so I stopped the songs. She hadn't moved in the past ten minutes, but I wasn't sure if that was sleep or...

_Drip._

A coppery taste filled my mouth, and I looked down to see that I had bit too far on my finger. The finger started the dull throb that I had grown so used to in this place, that I just pulled my finger away and let it rest with my hand on the bottom of the crate, still bleeding. An itch on my back made itself known, so I shifted myself around to scratch it. Then I realized exactly where the itch resided.

My wing.

The wings unnerved me. I wasn't a bird. I was a girl. They didn't belong on me. Some of my resentment came from the fact that ever since the wings grew to what the scientist said was their full size (a 13 foot wingspan), my "tests" had become even harder, and more frequent. I could tell I was changing more now, too. I could lift more, run faster, remember thing better. But I wasn't entirely sure it was just the wings. It could just be because I was stronger from all the testing they did on me. I hadn't even learned how to fly, so the wings were completely useless.

Slowly, I drew out the itchy wing from its almost permanent home of being hidden tight against my back. It shuddered, and all of the feathers aligned. My fingers searched out the itch hidden among the feathers, and I sighed as they hit the irritating spot. Running my hand along the feathers, almost grooming them, I examined the feathers. I hadn't showered in days, but the feathers still looked clean. It was almost as if they were built to never be cleaned.

The door slammed open, and I snapped the wing back into myself, hiding it as best as I could from my sight. The grey t-shirt I had on was built to keep the wings on the outside, but I tucked them underneath as much as possible. But, in this case, one was stuck on the outside, making me feel almost lopsided.

"Seven six six expired," announced a voice from the door. "And the Yard need fifteen."

A grunt walked in, pushing a cart. He stopped at the crate of the small girl, and without any consideration for the life inside, swung the crate onto the cart. He then pushed the cart down the row a bit more, until he reached me. I was roughly picked up and slammed onto the cart. My day must be coming to a close. I looked over to the little girl, only to see her not breathing. The first time this happened, I cried for days. Now, I just offer a quick prayer for her soul and try not to look at her body.

The final destination unknown, I looked around the halls as the grunt pushed the cart, following a scientist. Everything was a startling white, with an antiseptic smell that most hospitals had. We made a quick stop at what I had dubbed the crematorium, the place where all the bodies went, and dumped the little girl, leaving the crate next to me empty. We continued on, with only the eek of the wheels and occasional conversation between the two people not in crates to break the silence.

Eventually we stopped, and they parked the cart against the wall and went into a room, leaving me alone in the hallway. Nothing was near me in the long, empty hallway except the cart and an electrical outlet.

Electrical outlet.

My mind suddenly working on overdrive, I pulled out the paperclip that had been dropped near my cage at the start of the day and started using it to unscrew the plastic on the outside of the outlet. Once inside, the first this I did was start fraying the wires hidden under plastic coatings, crossing as many as I could. I hissed as a few shocked me, but managed to pull away before they did much more then that. Frantically, I looked around for anything in reach that was flammable. _Feathers._I yanked a few out of one of my wings and stuffed them into the outlet, putting the cover on and screwing it onto the fire hazard I had just created.

The door in front of me slammed open, and I squeaked in fright, jumping away from the wall I had just violated.

The grunt smirked. "Little birdie ready?" he asked me. I edged away from him. He grinned a bloodthirsty smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll make an excellent fight."

I swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in my mouth. _Please no, please no..._

The grunt picked up my crate and brought it to a door down the hallway. He opened the door into the outside world. The first thing that hit me was the heat. It was an overwhelming temperature, almost like opening an oven. Sweat started dripping down my forehead almost right away. Outside turned out to be a giant, grass covered field, fenced in with what looked to be an electric fence, netting coating the top. Observation windows were set up in the attached building we had just come out of. The door led to a smaller, fenced in portion. The grunt set my crate down and unlatched the door. I sat in shock for a moment, but by the time it had registered what he did, he had already walked through the door to the inside and locked the door behind him.

Cautiously, I crawled out of the crate. I saw another, smaller fenced in portion on the other side of the large, fenced in clearing. Inside of that clearing was three large men chatting. One caught my eye, and he grinned at me. It wasn't very reassuring, considering that he looked at me like I was a piece of meat. I rose to my feet and waited. Surely my fire hazard would catch fire, and I'd be free, right? Free, or dead. Either was a better alternative to whatever I had coming for me here.

I stood there, looking at the other men for what seemed like ten minutes. Almost when I couldn't stand it anymore, the gate leading me into the main area clicked open. The other gate, however, didn't open. I could see the confusion on the faces of the other people outside, but I was just grateful. I looked closer at the observation windows, but they were mirrored and impossible to look through from outside. I sighed.

Just then, a fireball launched the door near the others off its hinges and through the chain link fence, smacking two of the men into the ground. One screamed in pain. The third man ignored the others and advanced directly at me like a train. I yelled and tried to dodge, but he latched his hand onto my arm with enough force to bruise. With his momentum, he swung me around and punched my straight in the gut.

Stars swum around in my sight, but I somehow managed to stab the slightly twisted paperclip in my hand into his arm. Shocked, he dropped me and howled in pain. I scrambled away as fast as I could. The fire was now burning as a raging inferno, consuming the netting above the clearing.

Open air. I had wings. I could get out of here.

Adrenaline surged through my veins at this realization. I quickly stood up and ran towards the fire, kicking off the ground with all of my strength. My wings snapped out and down, pulling me up higher then expected. I moved my wings up again, then down, pushing myself up higher, over the net around the hellhole.

I was free.

Something else exploded below me, but I looked up towards the sky instead. Noting the position of the sun, I set myself towards what I thought was east and vowed to get the hell out of there.

**On a scale of one to ten, how much angst do you want?**

**Also, when do you want the flock brought in?**

**Please review with answers, more questions, constructive criticism, or even just a "Good job".**

**~Wryder**


	4. The Ride

**If you read this story before the edit, you'll be very happy from the ending here.**

The lights of Vegas lit the grounds ahead of me. I knew it was Vegas at first sight, due to the distinctive skyline. My hunger was overwhelming, demanding all of the attention that wasn't devoted to staying in the air. I had been flying for what felt like hours, and my wings were sore beyond belief. A couple times they had cramped, and I had plummeted towards the ground faster than a rock. Somehow, despite the pain, I managed to bring my wings around before I went splat on the desert floor. but when the cramping came back, I somehow found that I didn't care. As long as I made sure I didn't go splat, I could fall to the ground and walk the rest of the way to civilization.

Only opening my wings to slow my descent, I watched the ground get bigger and bigger. It was dark, the sun having set a while ago, but my eyesight had improved to the point of giving me decent night vision. When I finally touched down, I took a 360 of the area around me. It was a typical western desert, with some scrubby plants and rocks scattered. More importantly, there was no water that I could see. I moved to hide my wings inside of my shirt, afraid that even in the dark desert, someone would see them. The highway, however, was about a mile to my left, so the chance was low. Right now hitching a ride looked more appealing then walking the twenty or so miles to Vegas barefooted, even with the risk of riding with total strangers. With that thought in mind, I moved towards the road.

It only took ten minutes or so to reach the highway through the desert. Once there, I just stood and stuck my thumb out, like in the movies. Most people just blazed right on by, but after a few passes, a small green car slowed and parked on the road about twenty feet in front of me. I walked to the drivers side door, and whoever was behind the glass rolled the window down.

"Where you headed?" It was a college aged man, with a woman sitting passenger. She looked at me and smiled.

"Vegas," I replied nervously.

He looked at me decisively for a minute.

"Rick," warned the girl. He looked at her, and they did the whole silent conversation thing that most parents are experts at. After a minute, he looked back at the steering wheel and she looked at me. "You're welcome to sit in the back until we reach our hotel."

I smiled at her before opening up the car door and sitting on the seat. It was so soft, I could have sworn that I sank at least three inches into the padding. The car started, and we pulled away from the shoulder and into traffic.

After a few minutes of silence, the woman spoke up. "My name is Catherine. This here is Rick. My parents live in California and we're headed out to visit them, since school starts soon." It was clear she wanted answers from me, but she didn't want to come right out and say it.

"I'm Quinn," I told her after a long pause. "My life sucks. I've got friends in Vegas I haven't visited in a while, and figured they could help me." Nothing I said was a lie but my name, which made it a lot easier to stick to one story.

"How old are you?" quizzed Catherine.

"Sixteen." I didn't get any weird look at that, so I guess I looked older then before the whole mess. "My parents kicked me out, and I've been in a bit of a rough spot lately."

Understanding lit up Catherine's face. "That's too bad. Do you have any possessions?"

I shook my head mournfully. "Not anything."

A bout of dizziness made my dehydration known, and I closed my eyes until it passed. "Do you have some water?" I asked breathlessly.

Wordlessly, a bottle of water was pressed into my hands. I twisted open the cap and greedily started guzzling, ignoring the fact that some was spilling onto my shirt.

"Woah, slow down," laughed Catherine. "There's more where that came from."

Regretfully, I lowered the bottle and shrugged. The water had made its way into my stomach, and it was making me queasy. My head slowly came to rest between my knees as I tried to calm the rising nausea.

"What's the date?" I asked to distract myself.

There was the click of a phone. "August 30th."

My 'days' must have been longer than I originally thought. From June 12th to August 30th was 79 days, just a week or so short of three months. Well. "Thanks," I uttered, the queasiness fading. I sat up and sipped the water slowly, just to be sure.

The ride continued on in silence. I assumed that the two in the front had taken the stance of plausible deniability. That, of none of us were big talkers. The lights of Vegas were all around us before anyone spoke again.

"Do you need to be dropped off anywhere?" were the first words Rick spoke on the ride.

I bit my lip. Shoeless, I wouldn't get very far. But I also didn't want anyone tracing me anywhere. Then I laughed at my ridiculous thought. Track me? I flew who knows how many miles. No one could track me anywhere. "Are you sure? I could walk..." I trailed off.

"Brought you this far. Might as well finish it out."

Catherine looked at Rick and gave him a small, warm smile. As if on an impulse, she scribbled something on a paper and then looked back at me. "Where do you need to be dropped off?"

"7868 Scarlett Road," I replied, no hesitation. I once spent a whole summer out here, when I was 10 and Shane had left. I knew everything there was about my friend out here. "It's in the gated community near Caesars Palace."

They exited the highway, and I directed them along the road leading to the house. Almost as if it was a dream, we pulled up in front of the two story stucco house, grass lawn, bench on the porch.

Twisting around in her seat, Catherine handed me a piece of paper. "My mom's address," she explained as I unfolded the paper and looked at the contents. "Also my phone number and our address from back in Colorado. If you ever need any more help."

I looked back up at her, and a light smile grew on my face. "Thanks." Not wanting to extend the slightly awkward moment, I pushed the door open and slid outside. The warm air was still as I let the door slam behind me. I looked back to see that the digital clock in the car read 10:30, so it wasn't too late in the night. Someone must be up inside the house.  
My foot, without command, moved forward, and I took the first step towards my home. Ignoring the winding path, I walked across the grass to the door and raised my fist to knock. It hesitated for one second, before coming down to break the silence.

_Knock._

There was silence for a few moments,before the door cracked open. "Chris?" came the disbelieving voice, before the door slowly opened itself more.

I gave an empty smile. "Anika."

**I put a poll up on my profile about reviewing. It'll help me see how normal I am compared to others, so please vote. :)**

**Also, everything up to this point and probably the next two chapters was just the first chapter in the original. In the original, I had her get kidnapped, knocked out for a month, woke up with wings, was set free by a rouge Eraser, flew home, got the books, and then ran away. All very lazy, and way too fast. I like this version better.**

**1. How do you like the couple in the car? Are they realistic?**

**2. Are any of you re-reading this? Do you like the differences from the original?**

**Thanks to all who took the time to review the last chapter.**

**~Wryder**


	5. The House

**I feel like a first time fanfiction writer. I freak out every time I get a review.**

"Chris! It is you!" Anika rushed forward, arms outstretched to hug me.

On an instinct, my own arms shot out and stopped her, roughly gripping her shirt. We stood for a moment in silence, before she lowered her arms and I loosened my grip. She was shorter then me by a good four inches, which was strange because I used to be the short one.

"Sorry," I muttered. "Just... don't touch me."

Remembering the car behind me, I let go of one hand, half turned, and waved. Catherine waved from the passengers seat, and the car pulled away from the curb and sped down the road.

"Can I..." I swallowed and looked past her into the house. "Can I take a shower?" This was a lot more awkward than I imagined.

"If you let go of me," she joked, gesturing to the arm that still had a loose grip on her.

I let go and pulled my hand away, like it had been burned.

Anika watched me, her eyes filled with sorrow. "You can use my shower. Towels under the sink."

Eager to get away from the situation, I nodded and sprinted past her up the stairs. As soon as I reached the bathroom, I closed and locked the door behind me. Alone, I took the chance to look at myself in the mirror for the first time in 79 days.

The first thing I noticed was my eyes. They looked lifeless, sunken slightly into my face. My cheeks were hollow, and my face looked longer. There was no fat to be seen anywhere. My arms were skinny, but what was there was pure muscle. When I pulled off my shirt, my ribs were prominent. I was nowhere near emaciated, but I wasn't healthy, either. Scars were everywhere, but my chest contained the most by far. There were long scars that seemed to stay mirror image on both sides of my chest.

_They were placing in the air sacs, _I realized, fingering one of the scars.

Another scar was right over my heart. The day I woke up with that was a painful one. Every few hours, someone would come with more medication for me to take. The medication was never painkillers. That 'day' lasted quite a long time, mostly because they left me alone until my chest was healed. Looking at myself, I realized that they may have given me a new heart, one fit to fly with.

Over the skin on the bones in my body, excluding my skull as far as I could tell, resided even thicker scars. Even my fingers weren't spared. _New bones,_ I thought, _filled with pockets to make me lighter._

_To make me fly._

After examining myself for a few more minutes in the mirror, I stepped into the shower. The hot water felt amazing on my sore back. I let the water run its way down my back for a moment before wetting and scrubbing out my hair.

Showering was heavenly, but it did have to end sometime. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't push off an explanation for too long. Regretfully, I shut off the hot water and toweled off, making sure to shake the water off my wings. They shed water like oil, so I didn't really have to worry about having two sopping appendages.

A knock at the door startled me, and I had to calm down my heart before I could respond. "Yeah?" I asked, breathless.

"Do you need anything?" came Anika's voice from the other side of the door.

"Clothing," I replied quickly. "And underwear." The generic, hopital like grey shirt and pants were dirty, and I didn't want to wear them ever again. In fact, I wanted to burn them. My enhanced hearing picked up her footsteps as she walked away, and again as she came back less than a minute later.

"I grabbed my mom's sweats and my t-shirt. Hope you don't mind." The door opened a crack, and said clothing articles were shoved through. "You are a bit taller then me, and her pants will fit better."

Wordlessly, I grabbed the offered clothes and shut the door. The shirt was a bright red, with Mickey Mouse on the front. When I put it on, my wings weren't too noticable, as long as I hugged them tightly to my body and kept the shirt baggy. There were hair ties in the top drawer near the sink, so I tied my hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of the way.

Clothed, I had no other reason to stay locked up in this bathroom. I made my way out, and upon finding the loft empty, walked downstairs. The TV was on, and the theme song to Spongebob was coming from the speakers. Anika sat on the couch, facing away from me, curled up into a little ball.

_Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Sponge Bob Square Pants!_

"Thank you."

With my two words, Anika turned around and looked at me. I mean, really looked at me. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "I had a water bottle before I got here."

"Kitchen. Now." With that, Anika got up and marched towards me. To avoid being touched, I moved away from her. Once in the kitchen, Anika opened the fridge and pulled out the milk. She then moved to the cabinet and pulled out a packet of instant oatmeal. "You need something that won't upset your stomach," she explained, pouring it all into a bowl and sticking it into the microwave. Before I knew it, a cup was on the table, and she filled it with milk before shoving it at me. "Here. Drink this."

I pulled the cup towards me and looked at it for a second. Anika cleared her throat, so I started to sip at the milk without protest. It was cold, and seemed to sit well in my stomach, so I started to drink it at a faster pace. I shifted myself to sit on the stool near the island, still drinking.

The microwave beeped, and Anika pulled out the bowl and stirred the contents with a spoon. "Are you going to call your parents?" she questioned, pushing the food in front of me.

Eagerly I reached for the spoon and shoveled the oatmeal into my mouth. It was plain, and before the whole School mess I would have hated it, but now it tasted like heaven. In less than a minute, the bowl was empty, and I sighed. "I don't know. I should."

"You think?"

I smiled, tired. "Tomorrow. Not today."

Anika sat down on the stool next to me, her legs curling up underneath her. "Chris, what happened?" She folded her arms over her chest. "You went missing a week before your birthday. It was everywhere; papers, TV, milk cartons... Okay, maybe not the last one. We were frantic."

I tapped my fingers on the counter, unsure how to answer. If I told the truth, I'd be carted to the nearest scientific facility and studied like a bug under a microscope. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not there, and I never will be again."

I looked up to see Anika looking at me. She studied my face for a few moments. "Okay. I won't push you. But sooner or later you'll need to talk about it."

Noises from the antics of Spongebob and Patrick were the only sounds in the room for the next few minutes.

The sound of the garage opening broke the silence between us. I jumped off of the stool and took a defensive position, my back facing the wall and my front facing the hallway. Anika gave me a worried look before hopping off her own stoll and heading towards the garage.

"Don't!" I warned, my voice tight. What if they had found me? What if they were here to take me back?

"It's fine," soothed Anika, not breaking her pace. "It's just my mom. She gets off her shift at the hospital now." Contrary to her words, she moved back into the kitchen and stood near me.

Despite the reassurance, I didn't relax my position until the door opened and Helen stepped into the hallway. She was balancing several bags on her arms, but all of them fell to the floor at the sight of me. "Christina," she breathed, moving forward like I was a ghost.

"Guess who showed up, Mom?" Anika laughed lightly.

Helen's eyes scanned me, much as her daughter had. Her lips tightened when she saw how thin I was. "Have you had something to eat?"

I nodded quickly.

"Hey, Mom, maybe you should give her a check up and make sure she's alright."

I tensed at check up, pulling my wings in closer to my body.

_Wings._

Suddenly I was terrified.

**I'm so evil.**


	6. The Plane

**I have a tumblr, where I freak out about everything. Go check it out. wrydera**

"No no no," I yelped, taking a step back. "I don't need a check up, I'm perfect. See?" My back hit the wall and I edged further away from them. "Completely normal. Nothing to see here!" It was like my mind was playing tricks on me. I could see everything in front of me, clear as day: the maze, the wind tunnel, the treadmill, the needles and fluids and knifes. The cattle prod. "Don't hurt me!" I cried, falling to the floor and shielding my head with my arms, hyperventilating.

_No. Go away._

"Christina!"

_Gotta run gotta run gotta run-_

I felt something touch my shoulder, and I flinched away, my eyes flicking open to see the threat. My brain was slow to see Anika, Helen standing in the background.

_I'm fine_.

Slowly, I let the air out of my lungs. My head sank down to my knees, and I clenched my eyes shut. "I'm fine," I whispered softly.

"I know you think that, but you aren't." Footsteps, moving closer to me. "Let me take a look at you-"

In a flash I was standing, moving away from her again. "I'll be fine," I insisted, sliding farther away. "I don't have any injuries, I'm just sore. Really."

Helen continued to look me over critically, her eyes stopping to look at the long scars on my arms. "Maybe the best thing for you now is sleep."

I nodded warily. "Sleep would be nice." I knew exactly where she thought my scars came from, and while it wasn't true, it was the best answer to any of her questions. Still on edge, I kept my back to the wall.

"You can use the guest bedroom. It's on this floor," Anika pointed out. needlessly. I couldn't stand the pity in her eyes anymore, so with a short nod, I took off like a rocket for the room.

* * *

The next morning was strange. When I woke up in the bed, I had a minor freak out, forgetting that I had escaped and that it was normal to be in a bed. After the freak out, I used the restroom to freshen up, mostly just brushing my hair and teeth with borrowed supplies. I knew it was time to call my parents, but I managed to push it off until after my breakfast of an incredible amount of sugar cereal. Once I was finished with my fifth bowl, Helen pulled the milk away and handed me her cell phone. I accepted it with a sigh and went off to the guest room to make the call.

The phone rang a total of twice before being picked up. "Hello? Helen? What do you need?"

My throat was drier than the Sahara. "I..."

A few moments passed. "Helen?"

I swallowed roughly. "Hi, Mom."

A clattering sound comes over the line. I wait a moment as, I assume, she picked up the phone she had just dropped. "Chrissie?"

"It's me." Another pause. "I'm in Vegas with Aunt Helen and Anika," I added, although she probably already knew that from the number I called from.

"Chrissie..." I could hear her tears in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, mom." My fingers played with the edge of the shirt I had on. "I just want to go home."

"Of course, honey," gushed my mom. "We'll get you on the first flight."

"I missed you."

My mom continued crying on the other phone for the rest of the call.

* * *

Just like my mom promised, I was on a flight home in less than four hours. There was a near scare with those full body scanners, but the Las Vegas airport was packed so they had to alternate the public through the metal detectors and the scanners randomly. In a stroke of luck, I went through the metal detectors. Disaster avoided.

The plane ride itself was maddening. It was a fairly small plane, and people were everywhere, so I spent most of the ride curled up in a small ball on the seat. The older woman sitting next to me wasn't super chatty, so it somewhat worked. When they let us leave the plane, I almost died of relief. Cramped spaces and large crowds weren't my thing, at all.

Once in the airport, I had to make my way through the terminal and back towards the baggage claim. I didn't have any luggage, seeing how I was still wearing all borrowed clothing, but it was where I was meeting my mom. I tried to stick to the crowds in an attempt to find my mom before she found me. Maybe I could keep her from hugging me and finding out about my avianess.

My ruse worked, because I managed to spot her quickly. She looked bad, in an I-haven't-slept -in-weeks way. Her hair was a lot greyer then I remembered it being, and her clothing wasn't ironed, which was a rarity for her. She was scanning the crowds, frantically searching for me. Dodging other people, I headed around her so she was facing away from me.

Fear coursed through me, and I ducked into the nearby bathroom to think. Once in a stall, I sat and calmed down. There was no way that my mom wouldn't instantly hug me tight when she saw me, like any good mom would. Hiding in the bathroom would only be a solution for as long as my mom decided to not be in here. The only thing that would cause her to not hug me, even if from shock, would be...

No.

I couldn't do that to my mom. She could hardly stand the first time it happened. She might just break if it happened again.

But there wasn't another option.

I steeled my emotions and my expression, and put on a face of ice, before departing the stall and the bathroom. Once out in the main area, I located my mom and started to walk towards her. When I was around ten feet away, she saw me.

"Christina!" She cried, running right at me. She stopped in her tracks at my face. "Christina?" she asked slowly, looking me straight in the face. One hand reached for my face.

"Don't touch me!" I spat, looking her up and down. Frost was just rolling off of my voice. "Do you think I want to be back here?" My arms waved around, indicating who knows what. "With you? Hardly."

Mom took a step back. "But, on the phone..."

I laughed coldly. "I was 'convinced'," I hissed, "that it would be better to wait until I was sixteen and could become legally emancipated." My eyes were locked on her face, which was slowly breaking. I laughed again, softer this time. "I finally understood why Shane left."

It hurt. It hurt so badly. I just wanted to gather her in my arms and tell her everything, and cry until everything bad was gone, just like when I was little. But that was a one way ticket into a government lab, and I wasn't willing to risk that for anything.

"The car is this way," whispered my mom after a moment, her voice breaking in the middle. She began to walk away, and I followed, marching at an almost businesslike pace. Once at the car, I slammed the door open, sat myself in the passenger's seat, and settled myself in for an awkward car ride home.

**I'm about to pass out. Gah. Its not even that late. And does anyone else have the problem that they know exactly what to say in the a/n before they type, but when they type their minds go blank? I do. All the time.**

**~Wryder**


	7. The Realization

**I never listen to the radio. On top of not having one, I just like finding all of my music from artist who post their stuff on YouTube, like Luke Conard and Alex Day. It sounds better then the things major record companies put out. Well, not always as catchy as "Call Me Maybe," but in general I like it more.**

The worn door shut quietly behind me, clicking into place like it had a million times before. I looked around the bright blue kitchen with stainless steel appliances, the red living room with the leather furniture, all things I hadn't seen in months. Everything was spotless, eerily so. On one counter rested a box, wrapped in bright paper and curled ribbons, waiting for weeks on end to be opened. With a shot of adrenaline, it registered with me that my birthday had passed when I was trapped. It wasn't like I didn't know, but I didn't feel any older until that moment.

Bile rose in my months ago, I was carefree, happy, innocent. I had been _thirteen_. It wasn't that big of a difference, looking forward to the next year, but it was. It was worse. Everything had been ripped from me in a twist no one saw coming. I was now fate's chew toy. With that thought in mind, I raced up the stairs and into my room, leaving behind a silently crying mother.

My room looked the same as it had before I left, mess and everything included, for which I was relieved. If anything else had been different... In a fit of rage, I kicked my bedside table before sinking into my bed, ignoring the lamp and books that had been knocked off. My mom thought I hated her. Who knows what my dad thinks. I wasn't even human anymore.

This was shaping up to look like a horrible life.

* * *

I had been home for two days before my dad (who had been ignoring me for the most part) decided to send me to a therapist. He was convinced that I was under some sort of mental break. He was right, but he shouldn't have been. How was it even possible for him to suspect? No matter how much I protested, my father remained convinced, and I soon found myself in a squishy chair.

The first session was horrible. The shrink spent the whole time asking me about me disappearance. When that didn't work and I didn't crack, she started to quiz me on depression and self harm. I concluded that she was crazy, and stormed out. My dad still dropped me off every day, but I didn't even bother going into the office.

The only other place I bothered to go was my friend Kimberly's house. She, unlike every other person on the planet, didn't ask questions about my vanishing act. Well, she did ask why I left, but my response of 'reasons' was enough for her. We spent the whole time busting up floor masters and solving temples on Zelda games. I had caught her staring at my thick scars on occasion, but she didn't comment, so neither did I.

At night, I snuck out for a couple hours and practiced my flying at the park near my home. I never wanted to be trapped somewhere like that again. I could only fly for around an hour before falling before, another half an hour after that before having to land from the pain in my wings. After a week of practice, I could fly for three hours straight, dodging the trees I used for cover. It wasn't possible to go for longer, seeing as how my parents would check on me at around three hour intervals during the night, and them catching me out of bed would revoke the few privileges I had.

Currently I was sitting on my bed, trying to read a book in a room that was still a mess. It was around eight at night, and as far as I was aware my parents were still up. They tried to talk to me whenever I went downstairs, so I tried to avoid that when they were home, eating after they had gone to work or sleep. After around ten minutes of struggling, I gave up on the wordy story and set the book down. No longer concentrating on the book, my mind began to register more. Mainly, I noticed noise from downstairs, so I moved to the door and cracked it open. With my enhanced hearing, it was all I needed.

"...isn't responding to anything."

I shoved my hand in my mouth to avoid making a noise. It was my crazy therapist.

"What do we do?" my mom asked, her voice cracking.

There was a pause.

"I noticed the scars in our sessions. Seeing as she is a runaway, they're most likely self inflicted, and seeing how she's now home and around those who care for her, she may be concealing more cuts. I would suggest hospitalizing her, or at least getting her checked out to make sure she isn't causing herself more harm. We'd proceed from there. It should happen soon, before her school starts up again."

My hands pushed against the floor, and I scrambled away from the door. This was bad. Very bad. If I went to a doctor...

A blunt point shoved its way into my hand, and I reflexively yanked my hand away from the offending object. Nursing my throbbing hand, I turned to look at what poked me.

_The Angel Experiment_.

And, suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore. There were more like me, people who could not only understand who I was, but who wouldn't lock me up for it, because _we were exactly the same_. It was perfect. A miracle. Not only that, but I could save them. If they were still in Colorado, that is. Would they be? Or would things have already been set into motion? The School was still doing avian experimentation, so that meant that the Flock had escaped at some point before then. I hadn't seen Jeb, so maybe he was still with them. I could tell them the truth about him, rescue them from the horrors Itex had in store.

Angel came to mind, and a rage ripped through me. To take someone as young as her and do what they did was a crime, no matter the avian DNA. She was a child. It was wrong. I knew what to do.

I grabbed the books and set them on my bed. Backpack, a spare set of clothes, a water bottle, all things I needed in order to make it to Colorado. My parents kept an emergency stash of cash in their room, so I snuck through the hall and into their room. The antique box under the bed held over five hundred dollars and some plastic, all of which I shoved into my backpack before hiding the box and sneaking back into my room.

That whole time, my mind was formulating a plan. To avoid suspicion for the longest amount of time, I would tell my parents that I was going to Kimberly's house for a sleepover, and to expect me to be there all of tomorrow. Then I would fly into the more downtown part of American Fork and use several different ATM's to withdraw as much cash as possible, with both the credit card I had swiped and my own debt card. I'd keep my phone on me until the next night, when I'd ditch it in a moving car, along with the cards. No tracking me. At some point, i would call from a payphone and confess part of the truth, just enough to let them know that I loved them but I wasn't coming back.

Then I'd find the flock.

**So, with my amazing prediction powers, I predict that the Flock will join us in about two chapters. Who's excited?**

**And all the way up to this point was the original first chapter. It was really bad. For your enjoyment, a few exerpts from the original first chapter:**

_No! Things like this don't happen to me!_ These were my first thoughts as I woke up in the back of a van. I could hear two men up in the front arguing over the radio station. I tried to move my hand to itch my nose and gasped. My hands were duct taped together behind me!

One of the men in the front flipped around. "Crap," he said. Then he reached over for a cloth, and shoved it in my face. I sucked in a breath, surprised, which turned out to be just the wrong thing to do. The last thing I heard was the two men laughing up in the front.

* * *

"She's awake! Get the painkiller!"

Someone inserted a needle into my arm, and in a few seconds the pain started to dim. Soon it was all gone. A woman was next to my crate was filling an IV bag with some sort of liquid. She saw me looking at her and smiled.

"When this is in you the pain won't come back in your back, ok, sweetie?" She walked away and out the door at the end of the room. The IV bag drained quickly, and when it was gone I ripped the needle out. I hate needles.

One of the guys who kidnapped me walked into the room. He opened my dog crate. I stared at him stupidly for a second.

"Come on! We have to go before they find out!" WHAA? I crawled out of the crate and looked at him. He ignored me and started to walk away. Not knowing what else to do, I followed. We walked through a maze of hallways and stairs, eventually reaching outside.

"Who are you? Why are you letting me out?" I asked. This was all so confusing. First he captures me, and then he sets me free?

* * *

I just stared at him in shock for a few moments, and then I rolled my shoulders. There was something back there that wasn't there before! It felt like I had more of me, something more I could move. I tried to move them, but my shirt was in the way.

**Yeah, it was crap. I pretty much just gave her wings and set her loose, a Mary Sue OC in a world that needed her to live. I was a thirteen year old fangirl who had no idea what she was doing. **

**Hope it amused you, and showed you how far I've come.**

**~Wryder**


	8. The Run

**Short chapter, but I felt like sticking it up. Enjoy!**

The Seven-Eleven sign glowed bright above me as I walked through the automatic doors and towards the brightly wrapped junk food. It called to me, and seeing how I hadn't eaten in several hours, I complied. My body, it seemed, could only take about 5 hours of straight flying, so after the allotted time I found a cheap hotel and crashed for several more hours. The final cash amount I managed to withdraw in the hour or so I gave myself to ATM hop was around two thousand, which was a worrying amount to carry in cash. I just prayed that I could defend myself if it came to that.

I was trying to take six hour shifts, with six hours of flight then six more of sleep. It worked somewhat, but the second six of sleep I had to find somewhere to hunker down that wasn't a hotel. Six hours in a hotel in the middle of the day would look a bit too suspicious. By that time I had made it across the desert and was in the Colorado Mountains, with no idea how to find the Flock other than to ask around small towns for teenagers doing regular shopping for groceries.

But now was when I needed make my last call and ditch the phone and cards. After I ate, that was.

My phone, however, had a different idea. Just as I was reaching for a ramen cup, it started to buzz like crazy. I eyed the ramen regretfully before leaving the store. This wasn't a conversation I wanted to have with an audience. The glowing outer screen on the phone told me that it was indeed my mom calling. With hands trembling, I flipped open the phone and set it against my ear.

"Yes?"

"Chrissie, its almost ten. You need to head home." Her dull voice cut through me.

"Mom, I-"

"No buts. Now."

I bit my lip. "No, Mom, I can't." At the silence I rushed on. "I'm not at Kimberly's, I never went there. And I love you. I- I didn't run away the first time, and I've got to fix things that I know need me." As if that made any sense to anyone who wasn't me. "Look, there wasn't anything else I could do."

"You lied?" my mom asked, her voice cracking.

I nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see me through the phone. "It was the only option, Mom, I swear. You would've never let me go. And I swear on my life that one day I'll explain everything. But I couldn't stay there. And I love you, and care for you, but I can't be home now. It's dangerous for-"

A clicking noise in the background of the call distracted me. It was so quiet that I wouldn't have noticed it without my enhanced hearing. "Location locked," someone said softly.

"How are you in Colorado?" she asked in disbelief.

Shocked, I pulled the phone away and looked at it. After one frozen moment, I threw it at the ground and smashed it under one foot, grinding it until nothing bigger than a quarter was left. They know I'm here. That thought in mind, I fled towards the woods. The instant I was out of view of the lights, I shrugged off the jacket used to hide my wings and flew like no other.

After ten minutes straight of flying, I looked over my shoulder to see no lights or anything. The starry mass of sky above me looked incredible, the milky way clear to my hawk eyes. I started my descent, careful to watch for branches and other trees. There wasn't any better time to plan on how to tackle this latest problem.

Or, at least, that's what I though. I didn't think that anymore after being tackled to the ground.

**I wonder who it could be. Catch the sarcasm.**

**~Wryder**


	9. The Finding

**Eh. This is meh. Eh.**

"Who are you?" growled the dark figure, his arm (for I could tell it was a guy from the voice) pressed against my neck, my back to the ground. "Why did you come here?"

I was paralyzed with fear. The only thing in my mind was my parents, the police, somehow ending up in the hospital, strapped to a metal table, stuck into a crate. "Don't make me go back!" I cried, struggling to get out from under whoever was on me. The fear was blinding me to everything. "I can't- No!" Hot tears poured down my face, and I broke down, still pinned down to the ground by a stranger, struggling to get away.

"Calm down."

The pressure on my neck let up, and I pulled back and pushed myself away. When my back hit a tree, I curled up into a ball to protect myself.

"Put your head between your knees." A gentle hand guided my head down, and I just hugged myself tighter. "Deep breaths. Calm yourself. Close your eyes." Whoever it was started to rub my back. It was soothing, and soon I was taking in deep, shuddering breaths. When I was fully aware of myself, I pulled away slightly, and the hand on my back stopped.

I opened my eyes and looked at my attacker. There was no moon, so it was hard to make out, but whoever it was had long, dark hair. "Thanks," I muttered, still trying to identify them. "Or no thanks, considering you started- well, you triggered whatever that was."

"PTSD." When all I did was give him a blank stare, the boy gave a small laugh. "Post traumatic stress disorder. That was a flashback."

"You must have a lot of experience with that," I said sarcastically. "You know, attacking people like that all the time."

He joined me against the tree. "My... siblings... had a lot of the same problems a few years back."

After a few moments, I broke the silence. "Thats the second time that's happened. It's almost like I can't control myself..." I shuddered, steering my train of thought away from those images. "A bit jumpy, are you? Why'd you attack me earlier?" When he didn't respond, I continued. "How paranoid are you, exactly?"

That got another chuckle. "Enough."

A wild idea hit me, and it flew out of my mouth before my brain had a chance to filter it. "You wouldn't, by any chance, be familiar with a Fang, would you?"

"Who's asking?" His voice was tight, his body suddenly very tense.

I was tongue tied. How do you explain that you know almost everything about anything? "Me," I responded dumbly, still trying to work out his question in my head.

"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes studying me in the dark.

"A friend," I settled on, looking him back in the eye.

He looked me up and down again, before standing. "Come with me."

* * *

"What were you thinking?" screeched who I could only assume was Max. "We don't even know her!"

We had arrived at the house ten minutes ago. Fang had gone inside, leaving me in the dark. After a few minutes, someone started yelling, and they hadn't stopped since. Frankly, I was getting sick of it. There was no way we'd get anywhere with this. Slowly, I crept up to the door and pushed it open.

Inside was a small kitchen, attached to a living area, in the middle of which was two teenagers. One was the boy who found/attacked me, and the other was a girl. She was shorter then the boy, though her mere presence negated that advantage. Her dark blonde hair was a bit of a mess. There wasn't much more I could tell about her, since she was facing away from me. That changed, however, when I cleared my throat.

"What?" she snapped, before turning to face me. Her expression went from anger to rage when her eyes landed on me.

"I..." Her stare was extremely penetrating, and it unnerved me.

Her gaze went from rage to calculating, and cautious. "Did you lead them to us?"

I choked at that. "No! That's ridiculous. I would never-"

"Then why are you here? Don't leave." She spun around to look at Fang, who had been edging away. "I'm not done with you."

"I heard your name." Max's head snapped back to look at me intently. "At the School." A shudder racked my whole body at the mention of hell. "Well, three names, really. Max, Fang, and Nudge. It was a passing conversation. I think they thought I was out, but I wasn't."

"Out?" she questioned, eyes trained on my face.

"Not conscious," I confirmed. "It was after-" I cut myself off, sensing some sort of flashback. My hands were shaking and sweaty, just like the other two times I had intensely remember what had happened to me. Once the shaking was gone, I continued. "They said something about you guys, using your lab numbers. Then they mentioned Colorado, and how they were planning on getting you back."

"So how are you here?" Max asked, her voice softer now.

"I escaped." When she just looked at me like I was crazy, I laughed. "They parked my crate next to an outlet. I opened it with a paperclip and frayed the wires. Somehow I got lucky, and a few minutes later there was a huge explosion. I escaped in the chaos."

Max turned to Fang. "This isn't real. It's a trap. We leave, and it'll be like walking right where they want us to."

Fang shook his head. "She's telling the truth."

"How do you know?"

He looked at her like she was stupid.

Just then, the door across the room from me slammed open. "I heard the word explosion, and I swear it wasn't me this time. Gazzy took the microwave!" In ran a very tall, very white teenager. His shaggy strawberry blond hair swung in front of his face as he locked onto Max and grabbed her shoulders. "Don't go near the berry patch."

"Microwave? We have a microwave?" Max looked confused. 'Wait, we're missing a microwave?"

"Berry patch?" Fang began to look murderous.

"It was his idea, really! He saw that one cartoon-" The teen froze,before slowly turning his body to look at me, turning Max to face the same way. "Who is this?"

My mouth was open. How could a blind kid tell where everything was with that level of accuracy?

Max was giving me a glare. "Yes. You never explained that bit. Who are you, exactly?"

Something else seemed to take me over, and I stepped forward. "I'm Artemis."

**This is the introduction of her name! And the Flock, but who cares about them.**

**Ha.**

**Review (or comment, whatever they're calling it now)**

**~Wryder**


	10. The Flock

Inside, I was reeling. What had prompted me to say that? But it sort of fit. I wasn't Christina anymore. Christina held too much baggage. Artemis was someone new, someone undiscovered. So as I stood there in front of the one and only Maximum Ride, leader of the only group to escape the jaws of Itex, with a bag full of her secrets slung over my shoulder, I felt myself let go of one of the last things tying me to my old life.

As I was going over this new feeling of freedom inside, Max was looking at me from the outside. "Where did you come from?" she asked harshly, taking a slightly defensive position.

"When a mommy and a daddy really love each other-" started Iggy. He stopped when Max slapped his shoulder.

I grinned. "That. But most recently from the School."

Iggy edged away from me, almost as if I was carrying a virus and distance would protect him. His eyes closed. Fang flinched. Max, noting Iggy's distress, touched his shoulder.

I scowled. "Look, they're searching for you. Believe me if you want. But if you stay here, you're doomed."

"Say I believed you," hedged Max. "Where would we even go?" Her hair slipped in front of her face, and she brushed it back angrily. "Who's to say that you're not leading them to us?"

Angry, I grabbed the edge of my shirt and yanked it up, exposing the thick and knotted scar that marred the left side of my stomach. Half of one that was identically placed on the other side was also visible. "I had to heal from this with no painkillers. It was so painful I couldn't sleep in the small crate they shoved me into. And despite the fact that it was still bleeding, and that I hadn't slept in who knows how long," I spat, "they shoved me into the maze and made me run on the charged ground. What makes you think I'd let them do that to anyone else?"

Behind Max, Fang's mouth had dropped open. Max shot him a look before going back and looking at my eyes. "That doesn't answer where we'd even go." Her eyes were less suspicious, but only barely.  
"Arizona." It wasn't even a question to me. It was one of the many things I had thought about on my long flight. "It's where someone who used to work with the program lives. They might know who your parents are."

She didn't look totally convinced, but Max did relax slightly.

My hands started shaking slightly, and I clenched them into fists to stop the movement. The faucet in the kitchen dripped, and I flinched at the unexpected noise. The dripping, however unexpected, was comforting. It was something familiar in a strange place.

Iggy, who'd been silent for the most part, spoke up. "Wait, so you just came from the School?"

After realizing that he couldn't see me nod, I replied with a quick, "Yes."

"That's in California, a state and a half away." He turned to Max, grabbing her shoulder again. "Did you even ask if she was hungry?" My stomach chose right then to growl at me, and I grabbed it, embarrassed. Iggy turned back to me, hand still on Max. "How long did it take you to get here?"

"A week." While not technically true, it sounded better than a day, and it was a week if you counted the time that I should've realized that I needed to leave.

Iggy gasped in mock shock, and started moving towards me. "You must be starving. I would have food ready, but SOMEONE," he yelled at the ceiling, pulling me towards the table, "blew up my microwave."

I grinned at the antics. "Some food would be great."

* * *

That night I ended up on the couch. I couldn't sleep one bit. The excitement of meeting the Flock (even though it was only half of it) had worn off, and the guilt of leaving my parents had set in. This would be my one night of mourning. After that, it was something that would stay in my past. This one night of mourning led me to be awake every time Max checked in on me, which was almost hourly. Eventually I did get to sleep, but it was only for a few hours.

The next morning, I was woken up by several rambunctious children running down the stairs. All three of these children froze at the sight of a stranger on the couch. The first thing Gazzy did was run right back up the stairs. He came back a few minutes later, dragging a yawning Iggy right behind him. They crashed into the still frozen Nudge and Angel, making a huge Flock heap.

I laughed at the antics. "Good morning, chef," I lightly mocked, pulling Iggy out of the pile. "I see nobody was informed of my arrival?"

He shot me a wry grin. "Nope, these soldiers were sleeping when you came in. This is Angel," he grabbed the youngest by her arm, "Nudge," shoved her with a foot, to which she squeaked angrily, "and the microwave incinerator Gazzy." Iggy wasn't as merciful with the mini pyro, who he grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged up to Iggy face level. "Which we will talk about. Those powers are only to be used for good, or I'll take the clock you hid from Nudge and give it back before we make the big one."

"No fair!" cried Gazzy, struggling to get away.

"My clock!" cried Nudge. She turned on Gazzy, who by this point had been dropped on the ground. "You give that back!"

"No!" And with that, Gazzy shot off like a bullet, out the door before I could blink. In another second we could see both of them take off into the air, still bickering.

Angel, still hanging from Iggy's hand, giggled. "You know what comes next, right?" She deftly twisted out of Iggy's grip and launched herself towards the table. "And I know Max likes scrambled eggs, so you better get ready."

Iggy snapped to attention, saluting at Angel before making his way to the refrigerator. "Aye-aye, cap'n."

A few minutes later, a mountain of eggs, toast, and bacon sat at the table. Angel, Iggy, and I helped ourselves, on a first come, first serve basis. Max eventually stumbled into the room, sitting at the table and piling her plate high. She had only taken one bite when Nudge and Gazzy both rolled back in. An almost sulfuric smell wafted into the room, and I noticed that Gazzy was covered in mud. Nudge's pants were singed. Both were quiet, which I could tell was an anomaly.

Iggy's nose seemed to flare wider. Slowly, he turned to face the dynamic duo. "Did you set off the microwave?" he questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

"She dunked me in mud!" protested Gazzy, pointing a finger at Nudge.

"After you almost blew me up!"

Iggy pinched his nose. "We were going to rescue that!" he exploded, stabbing a fork into his pile of toast. "Why can't you listen! Microwaves are a pain to replace!"

Max stood up, her chair scraping the floor. Everyone got quiet, and the arguing couple flinched away from her. She looked around the kitchen, before announcing "It's too early for this." With that she moved towards the door. As an afterthought, she grabbed her plate. At the door, she turned to face us. "Tomorrow we're leaving. Meeting tonight for details." And with that, she was gone.

**So I got around to reading the book Divergent. It is amazing. I recommend it for those who are looking for a good read.**

**~Wryder**


End file.
